Page 43 of Meet Me in Montreal

First, there was a throat clearing. “Hey, Vanessa, it’s Scott. I hope things are good with you. I was listening to my playlist this morning on my way to work. That mix came on with all the artists we were supposed to see together up in Montreal. It got me thinking…maybe it was a little hasty to cancel the trip. Maybe I should’ve let things settle before I made up my mind about us.I guess you could say I have a quick temper, and I get heated, but if there’s a chance for there to still be an us, I’d like to talk about it. I miss hanging out with you.” He paused while her heart ticked faster. “So…if you still want to go, or even if you don’t want to go but you want to talk it over, hit me back. I’d like to see you again either way. Alright. Think about it and let me know. Later.”

That was the end of his message, and before remorse could rise up and clog her throat, Santino emerged in a haze of steam, spitting Big Sean and Gunna lyrics full blast like he was on stage with them. Quickly, she deleted Scott’s message, deleted the history of him calling at all.

“Hey. You look funny. What’s the matter?” Santino had stopped rapping to stare at her through the doorway to the vanity.

“Uh, nothing.” Her shoulders slumped as the weight of her own new little omission jumped on her shoulders and attempted to settle in. Isn’t this exactly why Scott had been angry, because she’d kept information like this to herself? “Actually, no, it was something. Scott just tried calling me.”

Santino’s eyebrows drew together, and his nose flared, but he nodded. “I figured at some point he might. You’re not that easy to walk away from.” A frisson of delight danced down her body at that statement. “Did you talk to him?”

“No, I let it go to voicemail.”

“Good. Block him.” Santino went back inside the small space, turned back to the mirror, and rubbed cooling lotion on his freshly shaven cheeks. “His time is up.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Vanessa walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame. She tilted her head to the side and studied him as he went through his ablutions.

“He told me you threatened him. You know, he could have found out what you did for a living and reported you to yourcaptain for that. You could have lost your job and shamed Patrick yet again.”

By “shaming Patrick,” she was referring to Tommy, who’d been let go from the department for drinking on the job and responding to an emergency while intoxicated. But Santino’s face shuttered for a moment, some darker shadow crossing his typically open features. She couldn’t fathom what he was thinking as he stared at his reflection.

She continued, “That was a little risky, don’t you think?”

Santino roused himself from whatever dark reverie had been playing in his head. “I’ve already shamed my father,” he responded cryptically. Before she could ask him what that meant, he scoffed, “And fuck a complaint. Running and snitching like a little bitch isn’t how the Saints handle things. That’s thebestI could say about him. And even if he is a little bitch, I don’t really give a fuck what the consequences are if I think somebody might hurt you.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I mean, yeah, gang, I get it. But he’s obviously outgrown all that. He never showed any hint of being violent, at least not to me,” she countered.

“Not to you. But maybe someone else. It was better he got cut off now before you had to find out.” For once, she didn’t have a comeback and went silent. In the reflection of the mirror, his eyes slid to hers. “Why did you tell me he called? You trying to make me jealous?”

“I told you because back when your little ex-girlfriend first started contacting you, you didn’t tell me. I had to find out when I happened to see her name in the call log, and I didn’t like that. I felt you should’ve told me the first time, so I can’t turn around and do the same thing now. I may be a jealous bitch, according to you, but I’m not trying to be a hypocrite too.”

Shrugging, her face on fire, she walked deeper into the vanity to hang up her clothes on the wall opposite the mirror fromwhere he stood looking at her with a small smile. Wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips and that hair spiky and wet, he was sinfully delicious but smelled like heaven.

“Correction,tesoro, I have never and will never call you a bitch. Jealous, yeah, but not that.”

She rolled her eyes at him, covering up the warmth flaring in her belly as Santino continued smiling at her softly.

“Relationship Rehab. It’s working. I can see it,” he said sagely.

“We are not in a relationship.”

“Your cream in my mouth says otherwise.” Calmly, he reached for his deodorant.

“That was sex. Very hot sex that is not happening again. But sex is not a relationship. You’re really not angry?” she asked after a moment of perusing him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, trust, if I see that motherfucker anywherenearyou when we get back to New York, I’m gonna break his legs for him,” he assured her matter-of-factly, pulling out his comb and running it through his strands until they lay neatly on one side. A little mousse and he was done. “But mad at you? Nah. I can’t be mad at my wifey for being so hot, other men stay thirsty. Just so long asyouremember who your husband is.”

Vanessa snorted. “Wifey. Whatever.” But before she could sashay past him, he tossed the comb and grabbed her by the waist, hauling her in and nuzzling that spot under her ear with a playful growl. When he pressed his towel-clad hips into her, she almost weakened, but she stayed strong. “Off! Bad Santino.”

He was laughing when she pushed him off rudely, rushed into the bathroom, and shut the doors.

14

YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE

SANTINO

Everything the guides had said about Mont Royal Park turned out to be true. It really was the prettiest spot they’d seen in the three days they’d been in Montreal.

When he and Vanessa arrived, they passed a group of men drumming at the entrance to the park on the stone staircase. She heard their accents and murmured to him, “I think some of them are Jamaican.” Their knit hats woven with the colors of the Jamaican flag were a clue. To the lively, spontaneous music, they climbed the staircase and found a path winding up the green hill to behold a vast lawn ringed by tall trees. It was a beautiful day and festival time, so of course, there were plenty of people spread out on blankets or strolling. Exactly his kind of place.

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